


Soon We'll Be Found

by mirzimonstein



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Atonement - Freeform, Experimental Style, F/M, Love Confessions, Sexual Content, based on a book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6454141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirzimonstein/pseuds/mirzimonstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the first part of one of my favourite books/movies called "Atonement" by Ian McEwan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soon We'll Be Found

**Author's Note:**

> So! It's been a while since I posted something and it's also been a while since I started working on this.  
> As tags say, this is very experimental! I wrote this using the book as a guide to try and find a more professional novel-ish style of writing, which is why this is quite different than anything I've posted before.  
> Still, if you enjoy reading lots of books and speacially if you've read or watched "Atonement" then please let me know what you think!  
> Inmense thanks you's to my lovely betas Robbie (tumblr: Thehobbem) and Aure (tumblr: Terracottasky), you both made this possible and this would suck so much without you!  
> Also I gift this work to my dear tumblr friend Ale "Sindacalista" to whom I promised a fic a long time ago and haven't been able to give her one 'til now, also she read this book bc i kept pushing her to, so now i really want to hear her opinion! yay :D  
> Please enjoy!

_"Let's not fight_

 

_I know we're lost_

_But soon we'll be found"_

* * *

 

 

_1894, Stokesay Court, England._

  


It always seemed too big, the house, even more so when she was younger and then even _more_ after her mother died. A few rooms were forever impregnated with the images of her fading, of her slow walk into the hells of cancer. Rooms that became unusable forever, yet completely intact. She was 10 at the time and now she’s 22 and it’s still too much of a castle for only three people.

There were a few maids and a handyman that took care of the house and the land, but she mostly spent her time alone. Her sister was too different and too young to be significant company, so she only had the occasional visit from her cousin to play with. Visits that got more and more occasional once the cancer race started.

Yona walks into the drawing room, the one with the big windows, and sits on the armchair that faces the outside. She takes her sandals off and scans the beautiful garden as she fans herself with her hands, still swimming in the strange melancholy that seemed to linger inside of her ever since she woke up this morning on this insanely hot day. Her eyes find the stone stairs that are right in front of the house, on her left, and there she sees a man’s broad figure sitting on the top step as if wondering if he should move or not.  From this angle she can see him leaning forward as he expertly toys with something between his fingers.

She watches him for a second and the blue feeling seems to expand inside of her even more. Yona remembers almost too exactly the careless boy he used to be when he was much younger, always willing to do something fun or adventurous whenever all of the sorrows of the lonely world seemed to find a home inside of her. She wasn’t so alone after all, but this is always something that she chooses to forget. His presence lingers inside of her like a precious gift that slowly, but suddenly, got lost. And the truth is he never left, not really, but it still felt like he had. Once she finally came back home from college he politely faded until she was forced to act like he had never even been there. It’s a strange sensation that has always puzzled her, but never enough to actually do something about it.

She averts her eyes from the window and tries to kill her undying boredom with something else instead. _I need a cigarette_. Suddenly the _overly_ expensive vase her father brought from one of his trips to Japan seems to be begging to be put to use. Luckily the maid had just set fresh flowers on every vase around the house but this one.

Her eyes dart to the window once again, entirely against her will, if only to check that he’s still there. And he is. She sighs and frowns at the strange way her stomach twists and turns. It must be the heat. That must be it.

Yona takes a bunch of red flowers from one of the other vases, puts it inside the japanese one and gives a few steps towards the door, decided to put an end to the headache this boring day has been giving her.

 

“Why don’t you talk to Hak anymore?” Her sister Brin asked her yesterday

“I do. We just move in different circles” She answered, shortly

“That’s rubbish”

 

And it was.

It is.

She knows it too well.

But still.

 

Yona’s feet stop when she walks past a mirror on her way out, and she takes two steps back until she catches her own reflection. There’s a wild lock of hair falling on her right cheek that she pushes behind he ear untils she’s satisfied with how she looks.

_How stupid._

She sighs yet again, and walks out once and for all.

Hak, the handyman, is sitting exactly where he was before, back slightly curved forward and elbows pressed against his legs as he twists between his fingers the thin paper he uses to roll up his favourite tobacco. He turns his head before she reaches him, feeling the sound of her footsteps on the stone; and the day is hot, almost too hot, but when his dark eyes meet her yellow sundress and he smiles at her, she doesn’t think she can blame the weather for the intense heat that arouses her. Somehow, this sensations make her strangely angry. He makes her angry.

 

“Would you roll up one for me?” She asks, coldly, and then continues her way downstairs. He follows her closely as he licks the hem of the paper and gives it the final twist “I don’t know if I like or hate this weather” Yona comments, immediately cursing herself for making small talk about the sun.

“It’s too hot for me, at least” He answers, lightheartedly, and when his eyes meet hers, he offers the finished cigarette to her “It’s been a while since I saw you last, what have you been up to?”

She places one end of the cigarette to her lips and he quickly reaches for his pocket to pull out his lighter. “Not much, really” She breathes in the grey smoke into her lungs “Nothing manages to keep me passionate” He raises his eyebrows slightly at her comment, and she internally cringes, suddenly remembering the reason she’s been avoiding the man for the past few weeks. Months. The reason for this irrational anger she feels whenever she’s around him lately. He makes her stupid, dizzy, and she hates him for it.

Yona turns on her heels and continues to walk towards the round fountain, across the huge grass field, if only to hide the blush that’s suddenly rushing to her face. Hak stays standing there, still surprised, but a few seconds later she hears his footsteps as he runs to catch up to her.

“So…”

“Soo Won’s coming today” She interrupts, trying to regain control of herself “I missed him, did you know he was coming?” She manages a smile as she inhales smoke from her cigarette

“I heard a rumor” He smiles back, inserting his hands in his pockets

“We haven’t seen him in over a year, so we’re hosting a fancy dinner to celebrate his visit” She continues, a sudden breeze of cold air caressing her body as she feels the soft grass on her bare feet “Father is so happy, and I missed my cousin too, so we all win” She smiles

“So that’s what all the flowers are for, huh? For them?”

“Yes, we want everything to look perfect”

“Makes sense”

A small but comfortable silence settles between them as they walk side by side. She feels his arm brush against hers once, and then again, tracing a cold path of goose bumps down her spine that she refuses to acknowledge.

And the thought of her cousin’s visit and the cigarette’s relaxing taste had slightly improved her mood, but the memory of a conversation she had a few days ago manages to bring her anger back to her for some reason.

“Father told me,” She says, trying to disguise the heated edge in her voice with a faint smile “that you’re planning on going away for college”

“I’m thinking about it” He comments, staring in the opposite direction

“For 4 years”

“Yes”

“Where?” She inquires

“As far away as I can”

“Ha! Of course you would” She snaps, yet again oblivious to the reason behind the sharpness in her voice, all she knows is that yes, it is too damn hot, and the burning sensation behind her neck is making her want to take the fancy vase and shatter it into the ground. Yona’s steps become faster, and she doesn’t stop walking even when she knows he has stopped following.

“I will pay your father back. Every penny” He states, his voice as strong and sharp as the look she knows he’s firing her. “If that’s what you’re worried about, then don’t”. She comes to a halt, a thousand mixed emotions colliding inside of her chest.

“It’s not”. A cold wind embraces her again. She turns around, praying he won’t be able to see through her, to see that she doesn’t know what she meant, but it wasn’t money. Definitely not money!, when has she ever cared for it? Don’t they know each other since they were 7 years old, rolling downhill and climbing trees? “That’s not what I meant at all, Hak” And she resumes her walking, because she feels stupid again, in front of him. Because he’s a servant in her house, because his grandfather is a servant in her house and so were his parents, when they were alive; because he takes care of the grass and fixes leakings and builds shelves out of nothing, because he once attached two tiny wheels to a little cart so her invalid pet turtle could walk again on his two front legs. Because she’s basically his superior and still… still he makes her feel weak.

She sighs and brushes old memories away. It’s not that way anymore. They grew up and nothing was ever the same, and though she admits it’s partly her fault, she also knows it’s more his than hers. Of the way he has lately to distance himself, to stay in “his place”. She hates it. She only went to college, it’s not like she became a whole different person over the course of two years, it’s not like her stupid and condescendent degree as a designer will get her anywhere, it’s not like there are jobs piling up for women anyways. She knows it, he knows it, father, uncles, cousins, everyone. Everyone. So why? Why did he turn so polite all of the sudden?

The sun burns into her skin mercilessly, affecting her already messed up mood to the point of making her stirr all this facts in her head that hadn’t bothered her this much before. He wanted to distance himself? Like that time he, out of fucking nowhere, started walking in and out of the house through the damn kitchen door like all the other servants? She quirked an eyebrow when she first saw him do it, after years and years of being a brother to the family, almost blood of their own blood, he just decided that he now had to take off his shoes before entering through the main door or just plain waiting outside? Well, let him have it. She only tried to persuade him once that he was being irrational, and he flared a distant gaze at her followed by a distant smile. Distant and cordial. Fuck _him_. She stopped thinking about it the exact moment she noticed it, the very same day he went inside their house in his socks and then sat at the stoned stairs outside to put his boots back on when he left. She stopped, but now it’s itching her, and something tells her she won’t find a way to let it go anytime soon.

She’s irritated to no end when she finally reaches the fountain and sits on the edge of it. It’s a round and deep construction made of some stupid kind of stone that seems to have absorbed all the sunlight in the world, because she has to contain a wince when her leg meets the hot material (she won’t allow him to see her in pain, just out of sheer spite). Triton, the god-statue that was standing in the middle of the water, stares directly at her house as the dolphins that are jumping around him vomit crystalline liquid incessantly. Yona tries to concentrate on them, on how those animals have always seemed grotesque to her, instead of in the strong steps that are now approaching her.

 _Irrationality_ , that’s the exact concept that makes her want to stretch all that way to one of the dolphin’s mouth so she can, somehow, fill the ancient vase with water without taking the flowers out. Needless to say, her arm isn’t strong nor long enough to do so, making her whole position … well, very unstable. She knows it’s a stupid idea when the cold chill that comes with the loss of balance travels through her body.

She doesn’t fall, though, of course, but she almost wishes that she had.

“Yona!”

If there’s something she didn’t want today was to be touched by Hak, of all people, much less have his arms around her waist like that.

A second and then another one passes before he pulls and grounds her like she no more than a feather, and once her feet touch the grass she’s suddenly aware of the proximity of his own body against hers, hot and young and toned from all the hard labours he always does around the house.

His arms linger around her for a couple of seconds and it all feels so confusing that once against she doesn’t know what to do with herself, she feels dizzy and so nervous all of the sudden that she can’t help the chill that goes down her length when she feels his ragged breathing on the back of her head.

“I’m sorry” He says quickly, removing his grip on her and giving a quick step back, like her body just burned him.

And what’s this whole situation about? Why does he help her and unbalance her and then goes back to his stupid ridiculous distant act? Why doesn’t it make her so damn angry? She rolls her eyes, presses her hand around the damn vase and, of course, there are suddenly no words in her brain. Just blankness and anger. She feels stupid and humiliated, and that’s probably what pushes her forward, to the fountain again. She won’t explain to him why the vase _has_ to be filled with the flowers in it or why she won’t just dip the damn thing in the huge amount of water _everywhere_ _else_ , she won’t because she doesn’t really know and, right now, even if she did she wouldn’t tell him.

“Are you kidding? Just take the flowers--” He says, walking towards her and gripping the other side of the vase “Yona,” He calls , a hint of irritation in his voice

“Let go, I’ve got it” She pulls the vase towards her

“You sure do” And his sarcasm is the last straw. She looks at him directly in the eyes and she knows he can see that whole sun burning in them, but it’s not enough for him to let it go.

It’s just a fraction of a second and another stupid decision on her behalf what it takes for an invaluable family object to become very, _very_ invaluable indeed.

She completely forgot. How could she forget? How could she forget the arms that used to lift her so she could climb tall trees?, the only guy who, at 8 years old, could make stones jump on the surface of water more than four times? Was she so adamant in ignoring his presence that she forgot that he was, also, the strongest man she’s ever known? Well, she definitely should have remembered it before deciding to pull on the vase with both hands, in a frantic seek for some sort of dominance over this whole dumb situation she brought upon herself. Hak blinks when he hears the breaking sound, and she expects him to look guilty or, at least, surprised at the fact that he’s holding a piece of the vase in his hand while a few other pieces are scattered in between them; but instead, he smiles at her almost victoriously.

“Why didn’t you let go? Look at what you did!” She leans over the fountain and looks for the piece she heard falling into the water. When she finds it, her index finger points at it as she asks “Do you know how valuable this stupid jar is?”

Smile still on, Hak lets out a fresh laugh as he stands up and faces her, still holding the japanese handle. “I guess I’ll never know”

She stands up, suddenly more ready to give her first slap than ever before “You’re such an--”

His carefree expression turns into worry “Yona, wait!” He exclaims, raising his arm and then looking at the floor in front of her. There are a few pieces of broken pottery in front of her and she’s barefoot. Of course he’d save her again, she thinks, of course she’d end up owing him even after _he_ fucks up. The thought makes her blood boil. “I’ll pick them up and put them together, you don’t have to get so worked up about it” he shrugs, and that’s when she notices that _this_ is actually the last straw. Beyond this point, everything she does is completely new to her, for she’s sure she’s never reached this exasperating mix of heat and irritation before. Ever.

 _You don’t have to get so worked up-_ Oh, she’ll show him how worked up she is over the stupid vase and the damn kitchen door and the old turtle wheels. She’ll show him that she can put the thing together by herself and also that his arm around her meant nothing because he pulled of the vase and broke it and now a big chunk of it lays at the very bottom of cold liquid he had prevented her from falling in.

She doesn’t think twice, nor removes her assassin eyes from his when she crosses her arms in front of her and grabs the hem of her yellow sundress, pulling it up over her head in one smooth and clean movement that she never thought would ever come to use. The burning sun hits the pale skin of her thighs and abdomen as she turns around and sits on the fountain edge with both her feet inside the water, but the heat quickly vanishes when she jumps in, gasping as the low temperature engulfs her from feet to hair.

Yona locates and grabs the piece of the vase quickly, but doesn’t come out instantly. She’ll make him wait, that will be his punishment for becoming a stranger. She would drown right now only out of spite, only to have him realize how much of an asshole he has been the past few months, how much his distance ended up hurting her. The thought made her feel even more cold and childish, if possible.

Her right leg finds the floor and she pushes it as strongly as she can, the impulse drawing her to the surface rapidly. Reaching for the stone edge, she pulls her body up and, pulling one leg over it first, she manages to stand up. He’s still there, and as she looks down to him she could swear he’s shrinking as the seconds go by.

But then he looks at her and she realises she learned a lot in college, but not how to read the look on Hak’s face as the water cascades down her body.

She’s supposed to be angry, she tries to remember, when under his surprised gaze she feels a warmness crawl under her skin. “ _I’m angry_ ” She thinks, frowning and then jumping down to retrieve her dress. The water makes it hard to put on again, but she still manages to do it quickly and fiercely. She then collects the broken pieces and carefully places them inside the vase, knowing that there’s still one left, and that’s the one that’s being awkwardly held by the servant.

 _Servant._ No. She’s outraged but that word still doesn’t feel right, doesn’t adjust to what he is, what he’s _been_. Not even when he treats himself like one. Not even then.

“Yona--” He starts, but she brushes past him as if he doesn’t exists, taking the japanese handle with her.

 _Yona_ , he called, and the guilt on his tone gave her all the victory she needed.

 

* * *

 

She showers her anger away, avoiding the effervescent embarrassment that starts to spread from her stomach to the rest of her. _Holy God, he saw her._ She scratched her body, as if to clean his gaze off of it, to delete the image of her bare skin from his mind. What would he be doing with it now? With the sight of her? What does he think of it? Is she pretty to him? Is she fat? What if she has an ugly body compared to other girls he probably has seen? Too skinny, too fat, too pale?

_I don’t care._

She steps out of the shower, intensely not caring. But then another enraging thought assaults her: What will she do with the damn vase? Normally she would take it to _him_ , of course, _he_ ’s the one to fix things in the house, _he_ is also the one who broke it, _he_ ’s the responsible one. But she won’t ask him for help even if he suddenly becomes the last man in the world, even if that vase is actually the most valuable thing they own in the house, she would actually rather pay for it herself for the rest of her life.

She hides the thing deep inside her closet underneath a pile of clothes and tries to pretend that such a thing never happened. Another vase will do and she fills it with water from the kitchen sink before putting the flowers in this time. The fountain never happened. Only Triton was there to see it, she thinks, staring at it from the kitchen window. Only Triton knows, and he better shut up about it.

_I’m losing my damn mind._

But that’s when she sees it. Him. The heat waves that seem to erupt from the earth manage to blur his shape, but she would recognize him anywhere; that long hair, bright as day and that nonchalant way of walking, like it’s not a million degrees outside, like nothing can hurt him or touch him even, nothing can ever ruin his good mood. Suddenly, the unpleasantness that was embracing her just vanishes. _Soo Won._

She leaves the vase aside and runs towards him, across the same field that had seen her underwear an hour ago.

 

* * *

 

“We’re going to have a fancy dinner for you later”, she comments from behind her sunglasses, lying on the grass by the pool, under the shadow of her favourite tree. She put on her bathing suit, but with this hot atmosphere, the water seems to be too cold.

_Not like it mattered before, though._

_Oh, stop it._

“Oh, yes! Brin told me” Soo Won smiles brightly, leaning his back against the same tree **,** “I ran into her as soon as I walked through the gates and she instantly told me, she was so excited”

“She can’t keep a secret if you paid her to”

“Well, you couldn’t either”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t really secret anyways”. She smiles, moving to stand up. “You have to wear a fancy suit though, I hope you brought one”

“After meeting Brin, guess who I found walking out and grumpier than ever.”

She knows. She knows who he met and she wishes he hadn’t mentioned it because now she feels uncomfortable inside her own skin again, suddenly too uncovered for her own taste. “Hak”, she spits, trying to conceal the saltiness in her tone.

“Yes! We talked for like half an hour! I missed him a lot” the blond continues, now even more cheerful than before “I invited him to the dinner.”

“You did what?!” She snaps “You didn’t!”

His face falls “What, d-do you… I thought you liked him?”

“ _Like_ him?!” She gasps, almost as a joke.

“Well, not like that!” He laughs “You know what I mean Yona, you were best friends, right? or good friends at le--”

“You have to tell him not to come...”

Now he’s the one to gasp “You know I won’t, how could I?” She throws her glasses to the grass “Unless… did he do something to you?”

And now she’s angry again. She won’t dignify that stupid question with an answer.

“Yona...”

She steps into the sun, allowing it to burn her legs, arms and face.

“Is there something between you two?”

“Oh for God’s sake!”

And she doesn’t care about the coldness, she just wants to escape. This time her hands are the first ones to dive in. Water swallows her whole, and under it she feels safe from all the outside’s confusions, if only for a while.

 

* * *

 

 

The water wasn’t hot to begin with, more like comfortably cool, pleasant enough to lower down the temperature of his own body as he stepped in the bathtub. That was 45 minutes ago.

Hak takes out his third handmade cigar from the tin he keeps them in, which is on a chair along with his lighter, next to the tub, and holds it to his lips. A chill goes down his spine and he smiles.

Is this how cold she felt when the water swallowed her in? Did she shiver when the wetness reached her waist, her back, her breasts? She had gasped -a small sound that can’t seem to stop replaying inside his ears- and, when she emerged, her skin was bristled.

He struggles to find in his memories something more beautiful than that.

He closes the distance between his lighter and his cigar, and inhales, filling his lungs with the sensual warmth and exhaling it through his nose. He could stay here all day, a little sore from labour, a little dizzy from smoking, entirely sick, entirely insane. Tensing and relaxing involuntarily as his memories bring yet another detail. A red, diagonal superficial mark on the back of her right thigh showed him that she had burned herself with the hot stone when she sat, but was too damn proud to let it show. She was offended by what he had said about her family money, about how he assumed that’s what she cared about. And he’s still not sure why he said it, but also he’s still not sure he wasn’t right in the first place, because what else could she care for? Why could she give a damn that he wants to be a mechanic as far away from her as possible? From her high social standing and her studies and short sundresses and bright red hair? It all came back to her father paying for his education.

She was so fed up, he thinks as he fills himself with smoke again, so much that she stripped to her underwear in front of him. She was punishing him, showing him how fucking perfect she was, how her skin, dry or wet, was basically made out of porcelain; how she had three beauty marks together, perfectly aligned right above her left ribcage. He had seen them, he’s seeing them again, almost like he could reach out and draw constellations on her skin. Did she know what she did to him? That now he’s invalidated to think of anything but the dark triangular shape her soaked panties weren’t able to conceal? She had to know, she _had_ to. She gave him her body and then she took it away. It was his punishment.

Hak inhales his tobacco one last time, and dips the tip on the cold water, - _psss_ \- he’s always liked the small sound it makes.

An hour has passed by the time he decides he’s uncomfortable with the wrinkly feeling on his fingers and finishes his bath. A full hour of cigarettes and Yona’s wet body. His childhood friend. The only one who’s ever tricked him into feeling this way.

He sinks into his small bed, clean and conflicted, forcing himself to stop thinking and overthinking it. He will have to face her today, talk to her eventually, and he will not be able to pull it off if he keeps swimming between his memories of a savage and irrational moment, which she’s probably regretting to her core right now. Oh, she must be in such shameful _agony_ at this moment, hating his guts, that he drove her to such edge and pushed all the wrong buttons on an insanely hot day. How will he apologize if all he thinks is that he would do it all over again?

And he was so stupid after that!, Soo Won invited him to the fancy dinner she had mentioned a few minutes before, and in a heated, still agitated stupor he couldn’t do anything else but say yes.

“Yes, of course, man!”

He was _so_ dead.

But he missed the blond light hearted cousin, how could he decline? He shook his hand honestly and laughed at Soo Won’s remark on his strong grip and then, when he resumed his walk the whole memory rushed into him, a cold chill traveling across his body. _He was so dead._

He rolls to his side and scans his room. The sun is going down but still has a few hours to go, since they are mid summer, so all his mess looks bright and almost romantically bohemian. Suddenly it’s clear what he has to do; first, put on some pants and then, write. Write something important and meaningful, because he will see her at the bloody dinner and she will probably ignore his ass the whole time, so a written apology is perfect, it would only take him a few seconds to give it to her and it would save him the shame of actually talking. She will wear a fancy dress and he will melt and words will not come. He knows it. He _knows_.

Unfortunately he is as bad with written words as he is with verbal ones. Fuck.

He fetches the old typewriter from his grandfather's room and settles it at the desk he only uses for his not so secret hobby of dismantling old weapons and putting them back together until he knows every step by heart. Of course, no words reach him.

Two, three, four sheets of paper wind up in the trash can.

_Yona_

_I don’t know what--_

Too direct.

_Yona,_

_I understand how angry you must be right now. The way I acted today--_

There it is… that disgusting self pitying tone, like condemning himself before the judge's decision. This is not the way he’s going to approach her, no sir. He isn’t entirely at fault anyways, he just doesn’t want to be in bad terms with her. That’s actually the last thing he wants. Everything but that. Every other term can do.

He has to find the precise words. They can’t be too simple for her to think he’s an ignorant handyman nor too sophisticated for her to think he actually read a whole dictionary just to write to her.

It’s the eighth one already and he’s getting fed up of his own stupidity. How can it be so damn hard to tell her, _Hey, I’m sorry I fucked up, I daydream so much about you that when I have you in front of me I lose my damn head. So it’s your fault!_

_It’s your fault, Yona._

No, of course he can’t tell her that. It’s not even her fault. It’s all his, he knows. One year she came home from college and she murdered him. He saw her, like a painting, walking towards him in one of her damn sundresses in between the yellow roses in the back garden, and his heart skipped like five consecutive beats. That night, he dreamed about ripping that dress in two and drinking her whole body like a mature fruit, sweating as she mumbled loving words into his ear right before she convulsed in pleasure. He could never see her with the same eyes again, not because she turned him on, it weren’t those kinds of thoughts that tortured him whenever she was around. It was another type of feeling. She made his brain go blank, his heart stop and race and stop again, and it took him a while to realize that it was the much feared feeling of _love_. That he, like the biggest moron on earth, had managed to fall in love with the single most out of his league woman on the face of the earth. He cursed the moment he revoked her title of “honorary sister” to turn her into the object of his first crush. At 21 years old. A full grown up floating in the abyss of an unrequited affection.

He took off his shoes before entering the house once. He thought they were dirty and the cleaning lady was polishing the floor, and it was Yona who had opened the door for him. So he took his shoes off and is still not sure as to why he did it when there were, obviously, other alternatives. And then Mr. Il asked him to enter through the kitchen door one day because they were making reparations in the front entrance, and Yona was leaning towards the sink, drinking water directly from the faucet... in her bathing suit. He never walked through the main entrance again. And now the fountain thing.

_Oh God._

Details of her body assault him again and, before he can help it, before he can stop this insane train of thought his fingers press the letters, savouring each one of them:

_Yona,_

_In my dreams I bury myself between your legs until you scream nothing but my name. You fucking ruined my life with the sight of your body and now I don’t think I can stop thinking about making love to you all day long._

 

Well-- That was definitely _something._

The clock  in the wall sounds twice before he bursts into laughter. He is so dead.

He folds his passionately inappropriate letter and sets it aside, deciding finally that the typewriter was somehow blocking his honesty from flowing properly to the paper. He reaches for that pen Grandpa Mundok gave him when he told him he had decided to go to college and stares at the blank paper for a while. Suddenly, the words were clear in his mind:

 

_“Yona_

_I wanted to apologize for the way I acted today, I truly don’t know what came over me and forced me to act so irrationally. I never meant to break your vase or make feel uncomfortable. In my defence, I have noticed the strange way I have been acting around you every time we run into each other. Yona, I don’t think I can blame the heat anymore!_

_It won’t happen again, I promise._

_I hope you can forgive me._

_Hak.”_

 

 _I hope you can forgive me_ , there it is, that stupid tone again. He would destroy it too, if he wasn’t sure that there is absolutely no way he could do better than this. It’s his absolute best, his most eloquent speech to date, and it’s melodramatic garbage. But will she get the not-so-secret hint he included? Probably not, but by this time there’s nothing to lose, honestly. There is no “friendship” to regain, there is no relationship to amend, so if she gets it, she gets it, at least he will have an answer to give himself when his brain can’t stop reminding him how much of a coward he is. If she doesn’t, then let him move to freaking Germany and become a mediocre mechanic as far away from that house as possible. There’s nothing the lose, he repeats to himself after a sigh, and a rush of excitement invades him. He smiles and, nervous and confident, he jumps out of the chair to go find his only fancy suit.

 

* * *

 

 

With everything that’s on her plate, now there’s _this_ . Yona covers her face with both hands, drowning a loud scream of frustration. This is the third dress she tries on and she’s actually considering throwing them all out of the window, or burning them to ashes. When did she buy this amount of ugly crap anyways? Or a better question is: why do they seem to have decided not to fit her _today_ of all days?

There’s a catastrophe in the kitchen and Brin is probably playing in the lake, by the bridge, covered in mud to her knees and hasn’t changed clothes yet and she will have to deal with all of that. Then there’s Soo Won, who she has to entertain and _then_ there’s Hak.

She can’t imagine him in a suit, to be honest, so that will be fun. Will he chase her around to say his sorrys? Will he ignore her all night? Well, it’s not like it matters to her, to be honest, she just wants him as far away as possible and the fact that he will be here in a couple of hours itches her.

No, the pink dress won’t do either, she looks like a freaking five year old! Green, black, pink, when did she ever think she would look good in those colors? Was she insane? Or is she going crazy right now? It must be the heat. The damn heat is the one that keeps making her irrational and annoyed beyond belief.

Blue. That’s the only color she has left to try between her dresses and, surprisingly so, she feels sure it’s going to be _the one_. She wore that dress last year when she spent New Years with her friends back in college, and she glowed in it. She puts it on and the silk fabric feels like water on her skin, so comfortable for such an unbearable day, and the low cut lets her cleavage show in the exact perfect measure. Also, one of the most important things, she loves the way that electric blue matches with the colour of her skin and her cherry red hair.

Yona sighs. Never before did she take this long in selecting a dress, but she calms herself thinking that this is an irrational day through and through. Maybe it’s been this way for everyone and she’s just fallen victim of a strange portal of unexpected and illogical events.

_Or maybe I’m just going mad._

 

* * *

 

 

It’s 6 o’clock. He had checked his silver lighter (also a present by Grandpa, probably the thing he’ll have to pass on to his children if he ever has them) three times, because he didn’t want to risk the embarrassment of a broken lighter in from of the rich people, specially certain redhead who seems to enjoy his cigarettes. He had combed his rebellious hair back, finding it strangely appealing (which is not a word he uses to describe himself very often), and then he had placed the folded letter inside an envelope, trying not to think of the anxiousness the content of it brought him.

_I don’t think I can blame the heat._

As he walks down the road towards the mansion, suddenly everything feels insanely bright. There’s a promise in his future, an opportunity to put his skills to use, to do something he actually enjoys doing. Mr Il agreed to help him out with studies, he didn’t even think it twice to say yes and that gesture meant the entire world to him and his grandfather. And then there’s the girl. That girl.

Woman.

_Yona._

What will he do about her? She hates his guts now, he knows, but will he try to change that? Or will he try to rip her out of his heart and mind and find a way to live without her? Is it even possible, at this point? Probably not.

He spots Brin’s black hair in the distance, the 12 year old girl’s yellow dress seems like a mess of mud and dirt that he knows won’t please her big sister, and she’s collecting wild flowers by the river, under the wooden bridge without a care in the world. He smiles at the sight of her, her similar figure brings memories of the long times he used to spend fooling around by the very same river with Yona and Soo Won. They were inseparable for a while back then, until they all left in search for greatness, that is. He was left behind of course, which was a thing that had to happen. He was meant to be their servant forever and they were meant to be rich forever and no amount of friendship times would change that status. It’s different now, though, but the mere thought of it makes him lose the courage he was bearing till now.

“Brin!” He calls, the girl’s head turning instantly at the sound of his voice.

“Hak!, are you going to the party?” She smiles, walking in his direction.

“Yes, your cousin invited me” he smiles in return, reaching for the inside pocket of his suit. The envelope stares back at him as he makes his final decision. This is the best way, if she reads it before he gets there then maybe she’ll have time to cool her head, to think about it before making a decision, before seeing his face. Is he being a coward? Yes, probably, but also something inside tells him this is the right move.

“What is that?” The girl asks, closing one of her eyes against the sun.

“Would you do me a favour?” He asks, and she nods. “Would you give this to your sister?” He continues, offering her the letter

“Right now?”

“Well, if you’re not busy with your flower collecting duties, yes” he jokes. “I think you should be home by now anyways, she will be angry when she sees all that mud on your shoes”

Brin looks at her feet and then at him, a worried expression on her face “Oh my God, I have to change! I completely forgot!”

He puts his hands inside of his pockets. “If you ask me, you should run.”

And, without a single word, the girl turns on her heel and goes away.

With a smile, he watches her run across the field and into the shortcut through the woods that leads to the kitchen door of the house, and It’s not until she’s out of his sight that the realization hits him like a slap in the face.

The letter. Did he send the correct one?

He took the folded one, without looking at it, he knows he did. But did he fold the one he had handwritten? A cold shiver travels down his spine.

Did he fold it?

No.

He had not.

 

_“...I bury myself between your legs until you scream...”_

 

He fills his lungs with air and yells Brin’s name into the wind, calling for her too late to be heard.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dear lord, _how old_ are you?” Yona exclaims, trying hard to contain the smile that’s threatening to break the authority in her voice at the sight of her sister covered in mud up the knees while holding a pristine white envelope in one hand and a bunch of wildflowers in the other, not to mention the dirt on her face. Normally she would be angry about this, but she feels good in her blue dress and there’s a point, right in the middle of chaos, when you just don’t care anymore. And she’s right inside of it.

“I’m sorry, I swear I forgot about the dinner until I saw Hak.”

Her stomach contracts. “Hak? Is he on his way now?”

“He told me to give you this.” Brin hands the envelope to her, his unmistakable handwriting signs the white paper with her name. “I’ll go shower, please cover for me!” The girl whispers and then runs upstairs, leaving a trail of dirt in every step.

Yona wants to reprimand her, to tell her to make it a quick shower, or to just to be able to formulate any kind of word; but her mouth is dry, and her heart seems to be speeding like she just ran a marathon.

_Yona_

She frowns as she stares at the envelope, suddenly mad at herself for the anxiety rush that is consuming her for absolutely no reason. Then slowly, she walks to the clean side of the stairs and sits carefully, taking her time in every movement like she’s not crazy about the content of the letter, like she’s convincing herself she’s not enjoying it a little too much, more than she should.

Will he apologize? He better apologize! What else would he send a letter for? Of course he wants to be on good terms before dinner, he’s not stupid, he doesn’t want her ignoring him all evening and this calms her, because she doesn’t want to be mad at him either. Yona doesn’t want to feel anything towards him, honestly, anything but the indifference of the past few years. Indifference, at least, is a thing she can certainly control.

With this reflection on her mind, her fingers rip the envelope and unfold the letter. She was surprised to see typewritten words, as opposed to the ones written by hand on the envelope, but that was the least of her surprises.

 

_“You fucking ruined my life…”_

 

He had never, ever cursed in front of her before, and the sound of his voice repeating the word in her mind is the strangest thing, but it’s also something _else_ . Something entirely different. She covers her mouth with her hand and this time she doesn’t suppress her victorious smile. Absorbing his words words again and again, she blushes and allows herself to imagine, for a second. It made perfect sense, all of it, the whole year, this whole day, all of her most strange impulses and the way his hands lingered on her body and then released her so fast, the anger and the avoidance. Everything. How long had it been there, crippling her, silently disguised as annoyance? She thought herself indifferent? _Indifferent?_ She just changed dresses _three_ times! Did she know herself so little?

The doorbell takes her out of her musings almost violently, resonating on the empty room. She inhales and exhales, ready to confront whatever is about to happen instead of avoiding it like a stupid child, like she’s been doing until now. She knows he’s outside the door like she knows she’s on the other side, shakingly nervous and still a little shocked, but also the ultimate victor of the argument started by the fountain.

  


The door creaks when she opens it, and as soon as she sees him she realizes how obvious it is. Everything inside of her burns and turns, it’s _so obvious_! The sight of him wearing a suit is new and almost breathtaking, so she focuses on his face, if only not to lose the upper hand she knows she has over him.

“Yona.” He calls in an apologetic tone when he spots the letter she’s still holding in her free hand “It-it was a stupid mistake, I know you might be disgusted and I’m so sorry...” His gaze lowers to the floor. “I’m… so sorry” he whispers nervously, “I’ll be going now, please excuse me to everyone--”

“No.”  She says, enjoying every second of the way he finds her eyes again “Come in” she commands, and without allowing him to respond, walks inside the mansion secretly thanking every god in heaven for not choosing the pink dress.

He follows her across the hallways and into the dark library, closing the door behind him at the same time she enlightens the room with the dim light that her father’s lamp provides. Yona turns around to find him standing awkwardly distant, as if to avoid being slapped or yelled at, or maybe is it that, still now he wants to fake a void between them that doesn’t exist? How far will he take it?

“If you’re going to fire me, you could have done it at the door.” He comments strongly and in a low voice that echoes deeply in her chest.

“Why would I fire you?” She answers, frustrated.

“I made a mistake. It wasn’t meant to be read-”

“No.”

“I wrote another one and got them messed up.”

“And what did the other say?”

He pauses, placing his hands inside of his pockets. “That… That I apologize for breaking your expensive vase and making you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to.”

“I accept your apology.” She smiles at him, waiting for him to utter words, to say anything but just stand there stunned at the turn the whole situation took. Her heart beats insanely inside her chest and she knows she has to turn this conversation around now or she will lose her nerve. “What happened… by the fountain.” His eyes drift to her chest for a second, involuntarily, she knows, but still burning into her and stealing all of the air from her lungs. She walks around the desk and turns her back at him, if only to give herself something to do. “I’ve never done anything like that before.” She reaches the bookshelf that covers the entire wall, seeping more into the darkness, as if to protect herself from the flow of words she knows will come out of her mouth. “And then I did.. I started to think about the stupid, the very stupid things that have happened, that I have done lately… I don’t understand… how I could be so blind.” Her emotions overflow at some point she can’t quite place and before she can stop herself, a tear crawls from her cheek to the floor.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned. She turns around, stunned by the closeness of his voice compared to where he was standing before. He’s still safely distant, but had walked around the desk, following her.

“Your letter was stupid,” she continues, and he sighs, dropping his eyesight to the floor. “But also… it also made me… understand” she pauses taking a deep breath, allowing some tears to fall, “that I have been so blind… that I didn’t know anything about me and about you, that I thought I would be happy if you went far away to study… but I was angry… and it was never about the money, so what was it then?”

“Yona.” He looks at her.

“I know what it is now…” Her voice shakes.

“Why are you crying?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know… I mean… It’s been there all along right? You- You knew before I did” She steps back, suddenly nervous at her almost confession. “It’s--”

“All I know...” He interrupts in a low voice. “is how _I_ feel”

“How?” She inquires strongly, breaking the secret silent atmosphere that had been built up to that moment. She is extremely tired of this day, of running in circles, of twists and turns that led nowhere for the past couple of years.

He clenches his jaw and then his hands turn into fists and she doesn’t know what to expect of him when he breathes in and walks towards her, with a determination in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before but that makes her whole body bristle and shiver. It takes three long steps for him to reach her and grab her neck and claim her lips almost violently, three steps that had seemed to be separating them for years now, only three, and now they just vanished.  His left hand grabs her neck and he pushes his body against her until her back is pressed against the book shelf, his lips toying with her senses, making strong and strange desires crawl up and down her body until she’s unable to remember why is it that they didn’t do this before.

All too fast, his face slips from her, gently sliding to her cheek and then apart. She’s panting, she suddenly realises, and he is too. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, avoiding her gaze as if to hide his blush. “I’m-- I shouldn’t--”

“You’re so stupid.” She whispers, reaching his face with her hands and forcing his eyes on hers. “Hak,” she nudges her nose against his, “kiss me more.” She continues, against his lips, loving the way he breathes into her and how he closes his eyes slowly before giving into her, embracing her mouth with his whole self and deepening the kiss with every movement, with every caress of his fingers on her neck and on her back, with every stroke of her fingers on his hair. She parts her lips more, allowing him to drink her whole, to taste and bite her lips, to breathe her air and to burn her to the core until she can’t physically contain the moan that escapes her mouth. That’s when everything starts to delightfully escalate.

Panting against the books, she doesn't stop his hands from wandering around her body and find her breasts and her ass, she allows him to arouse her, to explore her slowly and wake in her every single one of her senses. His lips ghost down her face into her neck, where he kisses and bites into her skin, making her whimper and blush and rock her hips towards him, if only to ease her eagerness.

Suddenly, he goes back to attack her mouth, capturing her ragged breaths “Yona…” He whispers as his right hand grabs the fabric of her dress, slowly pulling it up her leg. She opens her eyes and stares into his. He looks so hot, so perfect and manly that she knows that she won’t stop whatever is about to happen, because she wants it just as much.

“Hak…” Is the only word she can seem to remember.

“Can I touch you?” He asks against her lips and she smiles, because she’s pretty sure he’s touched her more in the last hour than ever before.

She kisses him, staring directly into his eyes and teasing his tongue with hers as she raises her left leg up to his waist. “Yes.” _Yes please._

It’s like a game, the way he looks into her as his hand slides under her dress, how she can’t contain her ragged breathing when his fingers find her center, caressing her nerves oh so slightly before putting the fabric of her underwear aside. It’s like everything and nothing she’s ever felt before, her skin reacts, her heart stumbles and she’s lost, so lost to his movements, to the sensations of finding and being found. She holds on to his clothes and to the bookshelf as his lips kiss and bite into her sensitive neck. His finger invades her without notice, fills her and the pleasure is almost unbearable, she bites her own fingers if only not to scream too loudly and be heard by everyone in the house. “Hak, Hak…” She moans, calling for him when the ministrations of his fingers seem to have her at the edge of any kind of reason. He kisses her right when she convulses, panting and shaking, strong spasms taking control of her body as he swallows all of her noises one by one. He’s smiling, she knows, but she doesn’t care “Where did you learn all that?” She breathes.

He quirks his right eyebrow. “Don’t ask.”

“Okay.”  She kisses him again, and again, taking in every bit of his scent she’s always known all too well, but had never treasured as she does now.

Her hands are the ones to tour down his body this time, slowly building the road to his belt. She presses her forehead to his chin and listens to him swallow hard when her hands find a way to unbuckle him.

“Yona…” He whispers into her ears, and instantly her skin bristles again.

“Hak…?” She stares at him whimsically, making sure to tease her body against his hardness

“I don’t think--”

“Don’t think.” She says as she unbuttons him. “Don’t think anymore.”

“Okay then.” He answers as he takes her by the waist and lifts her up to him, claiming her lower lip hungrily. She wraps her legs around him almost as an instinct and allows herself to get lost again, to be directed to wherever it is that they’re going and stop thinking, just stop thinking. Her dress slides from her right shoulder, uncovering her pale breasts to him as he fumbles with his hand between them to settle his hardness where she needs him the most. He teases at her entrance and she whinces and purrs, scared and ready at the same time. He pushes his hips against her and then there’s pain. She covers her mouth with her hand, but refuses to make a sound. It’s a matter of pride as he breathes into her neck without making a single move.

Suddenly, the pain starts to die down and her mind starts to blur again.

“Hak” she whispers, finding his eyes with her own.

“Yona” he repeats.

 

“I love you”

His eyes grow wider for a second and then he smiles, searching for her lips.

“I love you”

He moves slowly, filling her, moaning lowly into her with every thrust if his hips, with every breathing until that warm electricity builds inside her again, erupting through her pores as her hips rock against him, matching his rhythm and finding blissful friction on her eager center. His pleasure is music to her ears, and she feels hotter and dizzier every time a noise escapes him, until she’s sure she’s about to come undone yet again.

 

Then, Yona feels steps out the door.

She gasps “Someone’s coming.”

His body stays completely still and they don’t say a word until they hear the knock on the door.

“Yona? Are you there?” The voice of her father calls. Never ever before was she more glad that father wasn’t the kind of man to barge into rooms without knocking.

She clears her throat “Uh, yes! I’m-- uh--” She struggles to find an excuse “...my dress tore… and i’m fixing… it” She closes her eyes at her own stupidity.

“Oh!” Her father laughs “Well, dinner’s about to be served so hurry up, dear, we’re waiting for you.”

Hak’s thrusts his hips against her and his lips start to ghost around her neck, and she knows he’s smiling and teasing, making it almost impossible for her to focus. “Uh… Y-yes, I’ll be there in a minute, father!” And with that, the steps fade away into the hallways. “Oh God, Hak, you’re so bad.”

“ _I_ ’m bad?” he laughs. “Considering you had me” he kisses her collarbone “inside you” he rocks his hips against her “as you lied to your father...”

“We have to… go eat dinner…” She whispers, biting her lip to stop her own noises from coming out.

“Yes, we do.” He smiles again and that’s when his right hand finds its way under her dress again. It surprises her so much that he covers her mouth with his free hand as his other one presses against her swollen nub until she’s unable to formulate coherent thoughts. She bites into his fingers when his throbbing erection fills her whole and his fingers circle skin slowly  until everything explodes. He removes his hand from her mouth and kisses her moans, melting them with his until there are no more of them.

“Oh… god,” She pants against him, still fisting his hair and his clothes as her orgasm dies down. “We have to… eat dinner.” She smiles.

He laughs. “Yes, we do.” He repeats, stealing small kisses from her lips.

“Oh my…” She breathes when he removes himself from inside of her. “I’m so sensitive now.”

“It’s normal.” He comments as he helps her untangle from him.

“I hate that you seem to know… so much.”

“Well…” He says, fixing himself into his suit “I’ve learned things.” She can’t help the mental image of his body rocking against someone else for only just a second. She shakes it off, but the unpleasantness lingers in her. “I would have saved myself for you if only you had given me the smallest hope, you know.” She doesn’t miss the tiny hint of sadness that hides under his sarcasm. She stays silent as she makes sure her dress doesn’t look too wrinkled, or her hair too messy. “But hey…” Hak lifts her chin up with his finger “...my knowledge is all yours now,” He smiles, quirking his eyebrow. “If you want it.”

A chill travels down her spine and suddenly all bad thoughts faint away. Yona smiles whimsically, reaching for his lapels and his bowtie “Give yourself…” she stands on her toes to reach his ear “... to me.”

 

“Yona!” She hears Brin call from the hall “Soo Won asks if you’ve heard from Hak!”

The both cover their mouths to hide their laughter.

 

* * *

 

 

Soo Won gives him the eye when he sees him arrive a couple of minutes after Yona, but he just ignores it and takes a seat in the fine table the family had set for the evening. His body is still hot and filled with adrenalin and even when the dinner went smoothly, he still can’t help but get flustered whenever the memories struck him at the strangest moments of the formal meal. It doesn’t help that she’s sitting at one of the heads of the table and he’s right next to her. It doesn’t help either that she keeps brushing her feet up and down his leg while not even breaking her perfectly civil face.

 

“I beg you to excuse me.” Soo Won begs as he takes off his jacket “I tried to keep it on but, has the weather been this hot since before I arrived here?” He asks while smiling.

“Oh, don’t worry, don’t worry” Mr. Il says, gesturing with his hand “I guess it has been hot before, but today is certainly our hottest day of the year isn’t it?” He exclaims, eliciting smiles from everyone at the table.

“It sure has.” Yona adds, stealing a carefully flirty glance at him that makes him want to rip that damn dress off of her and take her on this very same table.

“Well, Yona’s blushing, which I’ve never seen before, so that definitely must mean this weather is abnormally hot.” Soo Won smiles at her and just like that Hak realises that his old friend seems to be as smart now as he’s always been.

“I’m not blushing!” She argues and Soo Won squints his eyes at her.

“You do seem to glow today, dear,” Mr. Il says, to which Hak tries his hardest not to laugh. “That dress suits you very, very well, doesn’t it Brin?”

“You look _veeeery_ pretty, Yona” Her sister teases.

“Oh! enough now or I’ll definitely blush!” She exclaims and they all laugh it off. Oh, her laughter is the only thing that he had left to see today, and now that it was there he knew this day had, just like that, become the best one of his entire life.

 

* * *

 

“In a trip I made to Japan...” Soo Won comments later in the night, after Mr. Il  excused himself to go to sleep and Yona went  to tug Brin in, as she does every night since their mother died. They moved the conversation to the outdoors, where a few armchairs, a sky full of stars and a chill breeze seems to be the perfect ending for an amazingly satisfying dinner  “... I found this very strong and yet very good liquor and I couldn’t help but think of you, my friend.”

“Did you? I’m flattered.” Hak laughs, receiving the drink from his friend.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re the first one I ever got insanely drunk with.” He continues, sitting too.

“Yeah, that was a good day.” He raises his small glass to his friend, who does the same before they both drink it. The liquor goes straight down his throat and instantly he decides that he likes it, so he asks more of Soo Won.

“So…” His friend starts, and he knows what’s coming next.

Hak smiles, feeling the tickles he gets in his stomach every time he thinks of certain redhead. “There you go…”

“You know me.”

“And you know _me_.” They laugh, taking in another round of sake.

“Something happened then?” Soo Won asks, excited.

“It did.” He smiles, staring at the stars. “Yeah, it did.”

“I knew it!”

“Of course.”

“And _when_? Wait, let me bet…”

“Oh my God.”

“Just this past week.” The blond says, filling his glass with more liquor. Hak rolls his eyes. “It seems pretty recent to me.”

“You’re so weird, Soo Won, I swear you always do this and I don’t know if you’re a smart ass or an absolute creep.”

“So I’m right?”

“Well, yeah, in a way you are.” Hak drinks.

“Hak… Don’t tell me…” Soo Won lowers his voice. “Was it _today_?”

“Oh, for fucks sake, Won!” Hak exclaims, trying hard to contain his laughter.

“Oh my…”

“I’m going to punch you I swear--”

“I cannot believe you!” Soo Won stands up. “I’m happy for you, alright?, I am, but you both are just--”

“Soo Won,” He calls, standing up. “you better start running.”

 

 

“I am older than you!” The blond exclaims as his neck is enveloped by Hak’s strong arm.

“Yeah well, I’m strong _er_.” He teases, messing with his friends hair as his brain spins with the excess of wine and strange japanese liquors. “Life’s unfair.”

“You’re going to hurt my neck and I’m going to have to put you in jail!”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Alright, alright, I surrender!”

“Say ‘I’m a creeper’.”

“Absolutely not.”

“‘I, Soo Won, am the Sherlock Holmes of creeps.’” Hak dictates

“I will never!” He bickers, trying to force his way out of his friend’s strong grip.

Suddenly, an all too familiar female voice interrupts them from up the stone stairs. “What the hell is this?” Yona asks, hiding her smile.

“Uh…” Hak stutters, suddenly letting go of Soo Won.

“Abuse of power is what it is!” He says, grabbing his neck.

“You two drank too much wine.”

“It’s called Sake, actually.” Soo Won comments laughing.

“Sake?” She asks, walking downstairs to them in her damn perfect blue silk dress that he made love to her in. She looks like a bird, like a dragon, like everything real and fictional combined in a single woman. He can’t help but follow her with his eyes, much less now that he knows what her moans taste like and the smell of her skin, the way her body feels in his fingers. “What were you bickering about?” Yona asks cheerfully, snapping him out of his drunken contemplative stupor.

“Nothing,” Soo Won answers, politely “He just wanted to prove to me that years only make him stronger.”

“They certainly don’t make _you_ any stronger, though.”

“They certainly don’t. I wish I was like you, my friend.” He continues, slowly walking upstairs.

“Where are you going?” Yona asks. “Stay, let’s look the stars together like old times!”

“Well, I’m a bit drunk and I think I’m tired from my long, _long_ trip so…”

Hak sticks his hands in his pockets and smiles at his friend’s subtlety.

“But…” Yona claims.

“Goodnight lovebirds!” The blond says right before closing the front door behind him.

“Wait, _what_?” Yona asks. “What did he just say?”

“Don’t worry, I already defended your honor.”

“Oh my God! I bet he guessed it.”

“He sure did.”

“He’s too smart for his own good.” She sighs. “Are you drunk?” She asks, walking to him.

“Only a bit dizzy, not sure if I can blame the alcohol though.” He jokes and she laughs, reaching for his neck with her arms.

“Then I’m dizzy too.” She smiles. “Would you dance with me?” She asks, and if he’s honest, he’s neither good nor particularly fond of dancing, but in what universe would he refuse her anything?

“Only if you sing,” He answers, as he caresses her waist with his thumbs.

It’s a night full of stars, which is nothing new to them and yet they both know something is completely different. The air, the fountain, the house, a lifetime. She hums a song and he sways with her and it’s like all of his most secret dreams combined, it’s like he’s going to wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, heartbroken to his very core. Except he won’t. She reaches for his lips and he gives them to her, she sings into him, filling him with music until he’s sure, so sure he would cry if he wasn’t so damn proud.

“Damn,” He murmurs, slightly parting his lips from hers.

“What?” She whispers.

“Nothing… This day’s been…”

“Intense.” Yona smiles.

“To say the least.”

 

* * *

 

 

Of course, he didn’t move to Germany to study, but he did do it in England, and it was only logical. The delicious promise of going back home every weekend to taste Yona’s love was the only thing he ever needed to call himself the happiest, luckiest bastard on the face of the earth, no matter how cheesy it sounded.

And he never became a millionaire, but she still exclaimed “Yes!” When he got down on one knee, holding the cheapest diamond ring he could find in his hand. And their home was never as big as Stokesay Court, it was no more than a cottage, really, but it was by the sea and it was quiet and they never needed more than that. And he was never the most eloquent nor the smartest man on earth, but he knew every constellation on Yona’s skin and, for the rest of his life, that was enough.

 

The passionate letter Hak had mistakenly sent her was forever Yona’s most precious possession.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! I put a ot of work into it and i'm quite proud of how it turned out.  
> This is in honour to my precious lovers Robbie and Cee, who are forever in my heart as one of the most passionate, precious and harrowing love stories I have ever witnessed. Ian McEwan changed the way I feel love stories and I'm forever grateful.  
> Please comment if you liked it and if you'd want me to post more things!  
> The title and lyrics are from "Soon we'll be found" by the amazing Sia (obviously)  
> Bye!


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